


It Felt Like Drowning

by c2t2



Category: Bleach
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied crossdressing, Language, Multi, Not In Chronological Order, Semi-explicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c2t2/pseuds/c2t2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji, Rukia, Ichigo - a tale told in layers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rukia Considers the Past

"I couldn't sleep when we first entered the Academy. Renji, the big oaf, can sleep anywhere, but I hated being alone in bed. It was cold, and even if he snores like a boar with a busted snout, Renji is always warm."

Inoue's eyes grew huge, "You and Renji-san are together? I knew it!" Her smile was dazzling.

Rukia realized her mistake and backpedaled, "No! No, not like that! We grew up together with dozens of us crammed into one room. The only way we could all fit was by practically stacking."

"Oh. Well, why not?" Inoue's eyes were wide and sad. Rukia detected a hint of something below the surface. Orihime was a little too involved in this matter, even for her, but Rukia did not pry. They were each entitled to their secrets.

"It's... complicated."

It really wasn't. But Rukia wasn't going to tell Inoue - sweet, gentle Inoue - what life in Rukongai was like.

The street children in Inuzuri rarely lived long. About forty of them slept in the one-room hovel, but during the day they broke into smaller groups. Those groups became even closer than kin. One of the strictest rules in Inuzuri gangs was that _no one_ form a romance within one's group. It would have felt incestuous to begin with, and survival depended on unity and cooperation. Distraction usually meant someone's death.

Following the rules hadn't saved their friends. She tried not to think about it.

They'd all had... well, experiments – Rukia wouldn't profane the term "lovers" by applying it to essentially artless fumblings against an alley wall – anyway, none of the other kids would think twice when somebody snuck out in the middle of the night. Rukia herself had been profoundly underwhelmed by the whole experience and decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

Wondering if the fault lay in the dirty street urchin she barely knew, Rukia had tried again when she and Renji had entered the Academy. But the results were again disappointing.

After the adoption, Rukia gave up completely. Nobility had a different set of rules in their empty, elaborate courtship rituals. Rukia knew to count her blessings where she found them. Even as a child, she had been fortunate.

As bad as Inuzuri had been, it could have been even worse. At least in the 78th the adults only tried to kill you if they noticed you. In the 79th district the people acted more like injured and ill-tempered animals. In the 80th, the terror of childhood nightmares and whispered stories, the residents were not people at all, but blood-crazed demons who craved violence and fed on pain.

Few shinigami knew what life was beyond the glittering mansions of Seireitei. The dark secrets shared between survivors made "romance" shallow and absurd.


	2. Chained in the Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renji knows he's trash.

As the hours passed, the film of sweat covering Renji's body dripped fresh, searing pain into the thousands of tiny wounds still oozing a combination of blood and ink. The fuzzy numbness and half-seen images of pain-induced hallucination drew, beckoned, enticed him into chaotic relief.

Renji gritted his teeth and clenched his fists around the padded bar in front of him as the pain, the agonizing, lingering pain, arced its path down his body once again, its passage permanently marked.

The tattoos were for him. To be seen. He had never been able to blend, and now he could stand out with pride.

In the slums of Rukongai, you did your damnedest to avoid attention. If you caught the wrong eye, someone usually tried to kill you on sight.

Abarai Renji was an orphan of district 78. He had bright, nearly fluorescent red hair. Even before he had marked himself with ink, his body had been mapped with scars.

The tattoos were for him, the pain a catharsis. But the ghost of her fingers, a gentler, sweet touch, just as agonizing, traced each line.

Rukia.

He had left Rukongai on her whim. He'd become a shinigami at her side. He encouraged her to accept the adoption - to leave him - for her own wellbeing. He trained like a madman for forty years to be worthy of her. He achieved fuckin' _bankai_ for her.

Then, he allied with invaders. He cut down his own men. He turned against and fought his captain, brought Byakuya to his knees.

He committed treason for her.

It was either extremely badass or totally pathetic. Renji leaned towards either option depending on his mood. Either way, Renji had no illusions about what he was.

Stray dogs, they'd called themselves. Slinking through the gutters with bright, hungry eyes, constantly filthy, fighting for scraps and dodging the beatings of the so-called grownups who kicked at any unwary kid passing too close.

"Inuzuri" indeed.

He was trash, little more than an animal. He knew he'd never escape. But he had hoped for better for _her_.

Becoming shinigami had been a step up. At least he and Rukia were no longer starving strays. She was now a pampered lapdog, with trainers and keepers and servants and never, ever free.

Renji spent his days chained in the yard.


	3. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia's eyes are open.

Rukia remembered the first time she had truly seen Renji as a man.

Until that day, she thought of him as she always had. He was the child she first met, only grown annoyingly tall. And then suddenly they were separated by unbreachable distance of caste and status and wealth. He slipped out of her life until she no longer knew where he was or what he was doing. She no longer knew him at all.

But ten years ago on a dark and windy autumn day, that had changed.

She was running errands for Ukitake-taicho, and had just finished delivering a message to Fourth. Losing both their vice-captain and third seat had left the division badly shorthanded.

A storm was brewing, and she wanted to get indoors before it hit. On her way back, she ran into what seemed like half of the Eleventh. "Half" was a pretty good word, considering the condition of the men.

The shinigami of the Eleventh were famous for aggression, boasting, and arrogance, so the seated officers had to constantly defend their stations against challengers who had more muscle than brains. Rukia didn't know it at the time, but one way the officers proved themselves was by taking the division – minus its captain and vice-captain – to an abandoned field for an all-out melee. Anyone unworthy of his position, along with anyone especially unpopular, would be cut down immediately. Afterwards, the fighters who could still move dragged the ones who couldn't to Fourth, trailing blood and shreds of their destroyed uniforms behind them.

It was this grisly procession that Rukia stumbled into when she turned a corner in a narrow thoroughfare. Dodging through the bloody and half-naked crowd of men, she suddenly found herself face-to-stomach with someone she immediately recognized, but at the same time was utterly alien to her.

She knew it was him before she even looked up to his face. It wasn't his height, since Rukia was so short she was stomach-height for many shinigami. Nor was it how heavily muscled this particular stomach was, since the Gotei 13 were military, and many of them, especially in the Eleventh, had obscene amounts of muscle. What Rukia recognized, even though she was seeing them for the first time, were the tribal tattoos that ran the length of his body, visible even under the blood and dirt that caked his skin.

Rukia looked up into his face and didn't recognize the person she saw there. The tie for his hair had not survived the brawl, and the matted and tangled locks swirled around his bare chest and shoulders. He was carrying an unconscious shinigami over his shoulders in a fireman's hold, the body casting a shadow over a face already darkened with streams of drying blood. Even reflecting the storm-dark sky, his eyes glinted like light off a blade.

The eyes alone threw Rukia off balance. Renji had always been restless, but it had always been aimless and frustrated. She had never seen him focused, directed. What goal, she wondered, had he set for himself? What star had he decided to reach out and take for his own?

She didn't know.

With that, Rukia saw Renji for the first time.

He was not a handsome man, she realized. Renji managed, somehow, to be both too muscular and too lanky at the same time. His frame was just too large.

His features were too sharp, the angles of his face too severe, for him to be traditionally handsome.

Even in the dim light, the color of his hair was distractingly bright. Jagged black tattoos covered every visible plane of his body; such patterns on any other creature would signal that the animal was poison, that he was lethal. It would signal that Renji's serrated sword dripped a deadly venom.

Renji was built to be a fighter, not a lover, his appearance designed to intimidate, not attract.

Why, then, did Rukia feel so powerfully drawn to him that her whole body shook with the desire to reach out and touch?

"Excuse me, Kuchiki-dono." His voice was rough, but achingly familiar. He stepped around her and continued walking. He did not look back.

Rukia stood immobile for endless seconds before she could move. Then she sprinted to outrun the storm. But Rukia did not shed tears.

Tears meant the heart had defeated the body. To cry would prove that existence was meaningless. Nii-sama had drilled this into her very soul for thirty years. Rukia had not wept since Kaien's death. She did not shed tears.

But oh, how she'd wanted to.


	4. Comic Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking with Sentaro and Kiyone

"Th' eleventh squad 's like an onion." Kiyone slurred.

"What, they have layers?" Sentaro looked skeptical.

"No, they smell bad."

The two officers howled with laughter. Renji's eye twitched.

"There's one other way Eleventh is like an onion," he growled.

"They have the same amount of brains?"

"Why you…"

"It's a joke Renji. Sit down before you hurt yourself."

"No. I meant we'll make you _cry_ , asshole."

"Relaaax, Abarai. You're goin' t' leave the 'leventh at some point, ne?"

"Where did you…?"

Kiyone waved a hand, nearly smacking Sentaro in the nose. "Oh, th' usual gossip. Nobody knows anything spuh…specific, but I hear you got some huuuge ambition."

"You never really leave the Eleventh." Renji sat and stared down into his empty jug of sake.

"Way to dodge the question, Abarai," Sentaro drawled, "Anyway, we need to catch up with booger-girl if we're going to have any fun tonight. Kiyone, tell him about Kyoraku-taicho yesterday. Here's a fresh jug, Abarai, we drink every time she slurs."

Kiyone had witnessed yesterday's incident firsthand. Captain Kyoraku Shunsui had been so drunk he didn't know where he was. He was staggering through the streets, singing 'It's Rainin Men' in his drunken baritone and traumatizing everyone who witnessed. Following his vice-captain's reiatsu, he burst into the women's locker room just when he reached the chorus. In front of fifty horrified women, a stark-naked Nanao had blasted him with the strongest kido Kiyone had ever seen. Half of the building was now a smoking crater, and Shunsui would be sporting a lot less of his iconic body hair for a while.

Renji and Sentaro continued to drink as Kiyone's story spun off to the current gossip about her own vice-captain. Apparently, he had taken the Kuchiki princess under his wing, and it was obvious that she had fallen in love with him.

Renji choked, nearly spitting out his drink. "Isn't your vice-captain married?" he ventured as soon as he could talk.

"Yeah, to our third seat," Sentaro answered. "The Kuchiki girl is cute, and apparently she likes loudmouth muscle-heads with tattoos, you should make a pass at her, Abarai."

This time Renji did spit out his drink.

Outside of his closest friends, few people knew about his past. He and Rukia were strangers now. As far as Seireitei knew, they had always been strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui singing "It's Rainin Men" inspired by "Smoke and Flowers" by Darthammonite on ffnet.


	5. Warped by Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short.

Rukia was alone. She had always been alone.

Rukia knew nothing about her origins, recalled nothing about the world of the living, and remembered nothing beyond vague images of her first years in Rukongai.

She must have been raised by someone, she knew. Someone must have taught her how to walk and talk, explained her name and her birthday and how to eat with chopsticks, taught her right and wrong and which rules could never be broken and which ones she could break when she had to. Perhaps the same people had taught her how to steal and kill. She couldn't remember either way. Rukia _did_ remember slitting her first throat when she was five years old. She couldn't remember why, but there had been no other option at the time.

She was alone after that, although she couldn't remember how that happened either.

She found her little family of orphans, then the academy, and finally the adoption and her entry into the Thirteenth. There, she was lonelier than ever. Even when she lived on the street, Rukia had never been so isolated. Her brother would not look at her, and only one person in her squad had broken the silence and drawn her out. She let him, because he seemed so familiar. It was painful; the friendly antagonism of his personality comforted her as it hurt her. She looked at Kaien and pretended that he was everything Renji only dreamed of being, what he could never achieve if he tried a thousand years. At the same time, Kaien's wife became the pinnacle of womanhood to her. Rukia had never had a female role model, and she emulated Miyako in every way she could.

It was then that Rukia discovered how twisted she had become.

Everyone in her squad believed she was in love with Kaien and idolized Miyako. The only people who did not seem to notice were the couple themselves. Rukia barely even tried to deny the accusation. Both parts of the statement were true. She had fallen in love with Kaien and she idolized Miyako, but that was not the whole story.

Rukia kept her silence and dignity as befitting a Kuchiki, but inside her own head she was not shackled by her surname. Rukia was a grown woman, and in her private fantasies there were certain things she had to acknowledge. Miyako kept intruding on said fantasies, and though Rukia first attributed it to guilt, she later came to a different realization.

She was in love with Kaien. She idolized Miyako.

And she desired them both.


	6. Being Good With People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renji made friends easily.

Renji made friends easily.

He had no idea why. In Rukongai, other kids had been drawn to his courage and willingness to lead. After leaving Inuzuri, the way people noticed him made less sense. Sure, he was rough and wild, loud and intimidating. He was well over six feet tall and had bright red hair and an increasingly impressive collection of tattoos, but in the colorful chaos of Seireitei, Renji wasn't really exceptional. His appearance was ordinary compared to inhuman shinigami like captains Komamura and Kurotsuchi. His unusual size was dwarfed by forty-foot Jidanbou. It couldn't possibly be physical attraction when he shared space with both Matsumoto Rangiku _and_ Hisagi Shuuhei. Nor was it how rapidly he gained power, compared to child prodigies like Hitsugaya.

Since he didn't really stand out, Renji was forced to conclude that he was good with people. He really shouldn't be. Renji knew he was a jarring mixture of arrogant and insecure, immature and hardened, driven and single-minded yet easily distracted. He was hopelessly thickheaded but a little too self-aware. He was brighter than he seemed, but not by much. This was not an appealing set of traits. Apparently he just had a way with people.

This was not a skill set that he deliberately learned and practiced. He had somehow stumbled ass-backward into it somewhere and should thank his undeserved luck.

Or "luck" as the case may be. The drawbacks of this talent made themselves known early and often.

He rocketed through the academy beside its star students, and graduated despite barely knowing any kido. All too soon that lack of skill would bite him in the ass. If Rukia had been around, she wouldn't have let him get away with it.

He was recruited into the Fifth, then booted out when his temper and ineptitude with kido could no longer be ignored. He then experienced a meteoric rise in the Eleventh, the strongest and toughest fighters of the Gotei 13. But in return for Ikkaku's training, Renji was pressed into picking up the pieces after Yumichika's conquests - one night stands with almost every pretty face that passed through the division. Renji spent many wretched mornings reassuring one confused and frantic man after another that yes, they were still heterosexual manly he-men, Yumichika just had an unnatural effect on straight guys, and don't worry, the pretty fifth seat never chased anyone twice.

Renji himself had a handful of one night stands. All of them with women, because bedding a woman made you more manly, and manly was the best thing to be. He didn't know why any of that was true, but smarter people than him thought so, so Renji went along with it. The whole experience was enjoyable enough, but not really important to him, so he rarely bothered. But Renji never left the bar alone if he didn't want to, much to the dismay of his jealous drinking buddies.

At last, Renji was promoted to vice-captain of the Sixth with the support of all the captains and a whole slew of high-ranking officers he barely knew. Sixth Division was happy to have a relatively normal person between them and their captain and hero-worshipped Renji as someone who could intercede between Kuchiki-taicho and the rank and file.

Renji never lost his friends from the Academy, fellow thugs from the Eleventh, his loyal fans in the Sixth, the captains, vice captains, and officers he'd built a rapport with; drinking buddies, random barflies, the staff and fellow enthusiasts of the Silver Dragonfly, so many endless streams of names and faces and personalities. Renji had a way with people. He enjoyed the company, but was unable to lose himself in them.

He had wrecked the one relationship that mattered.

Rukia.

Unlike him, Rukia was a loner.

They had run their mongrel pack together for ten years, and he had never seen her bond with anyone outside their group. She made no friends at the Academy, and upon her early graduation she left no one but Renji behind.

The noble houses were a major source of gossip, so he knew her movements even though he never spoke to her. Rukia joined the Thirteenth, and her career stalled without gaining an officer's seat. She seemed more isolated than ever, and he only ever saw her trailing in the shadow of her adopted brother.

After the fateful drinking game with Sentaro and Kiyone, he discovered that she had fallen in love.

After the Eleventh's fourth seat was promoted to vice-captain of the Seventh, Renji met Shiba Kaien. Since Iba was gone, nobody who outranked Renji in the Eleventh bothered attending ceremonial functions, kicking the duties down the ladder until they fell on him. Meanwhile, Kaien filled in when his captain was frequently sick. So for a few years, Renji saw the Shiba heir often.

Renji wanted to hate Kaien. He watched the vice-captain out of the corner of his eye, studying him for any weakness, any fatal flaw. Later he copied Iba and wore his sunglasses at all times so he could watch Kaien directly. The man was strong, handsome, and charismatic. His family was the elite and wealthy Shiba clan, but he was never stuck up or prissy. A few people remarked that the two of them were a lot alike. Renji tried to crush the overwhelming mixture of guilt and hope caused by the casual comments. From behind the privacy of his shades he stared at the man, desperate to see a flaw, wanting whatever it was that Renji himself lacked, wanting to see him through Rukia's eyes, wanting, just wanting, wanting…

One night, Renji sympathized with Rukia, marveling how fascinating Kaien was, how easy it was to desire him.

A few moments later, Renji realized what he had been thinking. He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling of the Eleventh Division bunkhouse. That kind of thing was fine for Yumichika, but Renji had never applied anything like that to himself. It was confusing and uncomfortable and Renji decided he didn't like it at all. He vowed to pick up a girl at the bar this weekend, and he'd try to avoid Kaien from now on.

This became much easier when Kaien died.

One night some time later, Renji was bleary and slightly concussed, trying to drag himself to Fourth after a typical Eleventh Division bloodbath. He was in a foul mood.

The first melee after this year's recruiting, and a bunch of the greenhorns tried to rush him, vying for Renji's status and rank. Renji refused to believe he had _ever_ been that stupid or that weak. Those slack-jawed, corner-pissing halfwits could barely hold a sword, never mind challenge an officer, but there had been so many of them, and their sheer numbers had forced Renji to release his shikai. Now he was stuck in the middle of a group of limping idiots who were leaning on each other for support. Renji's hair had come loose, and the wind of the oncoming storm kept blowing the dirty, sweat-soaked strands into his eyes.

He was still mentally cursing the recruits when Rukia appeared in front of him.

Renji's grumpy inner monologue slammed to a halt. For once he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He wondered if the head injury was making him see things.

No. If he was hallucinating, he would have come up with a better reunion. Rukia was staring at him with wide eyes and an indescribable expression. She looked thinner than ever, she hadn't grown any taller, and her eyes were still much too big for her face. Weren't they _feeding_ her in that ridiculous mansion? Weren't the higher-ups in her squad at least looking out for...

Oh right. Her vice-captain.

The unconscious man draped over his shoulders was growing heavier by the second, and Renji's vision was starting to swim with exhaustion. He wanted to snap out of it, drop his burden, wrap his arms around her tiny form, and fix everything.

But he couldn't. This is why she had a family. This is why he let her go.

"Excuse me, Kuchiki-dono."

Renji walked past her, his mind firmly on his goals. He would reach for strength with a ferocity only known to a starving dog from the gutter. He would defeat Byakuya and take her back.

Renji walked on, hoping to reach Fourth Division before the storm.


	7. Slacking Off on a Quiet Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slacking Off on a Quiet Patrol

Rukia lay on her back, watching the clouds drifting by, trying to find one that was rabbit-shaped. Patrol had been dreadfully boring, and she entertained herself the best she could, listening for the Hollow alert while ignoring the men on either side of her. Ichigo and Renji were trading insults over her head. She didn't think they even knew that they were arguing. By now their bickering was just white noise to them, as natural as breathing.

"At least I don't shave my forehead into weird shapes."

"It's to show the tattoos, dumbass."

"Well, it looks like you're going bald. Seriously, who fucks with their hairline?"

"It's called being secure. Some of us don't _compensate_ with some huge, overkill zanpakutou-"

"Believe me; I've got no need to compensate."

"You're such a liar."

"You want me to _show_ you?"

"You _wish_."

"Whatever you say, Renji."

"Don't flatter yourself."

Sometimes she'd swear they were flirting.

Flirting? A cold lump that felt a lot like fear seemed to constrict beneath Rukia's ribs. She was surprised at the emotion. Why did she feel this way? The idiots were almost certainly not flirting, but her reaction had been real. Rukia decided that in order to avoid stooping to their level of stupid, she needed to face the situation and sort this out in her own head.

Fact one: She had no objection to untraditional relationships. She already knew this about herself, but would need to order her thoughts more properly.

Fact two: The idea of Renji and Ichigo getting together upset her. She would need to explore this in more detail to understand why.

First things first, Rukia had no objection to the thought of two females or males in an erotic situation. Even before Chizuru had started slipping her certain kinds of manga, Rukia never felt disgust if the topic was brought to her attention. Nor did this tolerance end when it came to her personal life.

It was Rukia's most closely held secret.

She had come to terms with her slightly twisted desires concerning Kaien and Miyako, and she was no homophobe, so Rukia was left with the more puzzling fact number two.

She did not want Renji and Ichigo together.

The brief images that flashed through Rukia's mind at the thought were not objectionable in the least. She only banished them from her imagination because she did not want anyone to see her blushing like a fool.

When she thought of them together, one objection immediately jumped to mind: She would be left behind.

That thought raised more questions than answers. Neither friendship would be in jeopardy even if there was more to the situation than her heated imagination. The simplest conclusion would be that she had the hots for one of them. She could acknowledge a superficial attraction to them both, but nothing that would cause emotions as strong as she had felt.

That left one conclusion: she must be in love.

Rukia was rather put out, since obviously her heart had failed to consult her on the matter. She would have to have a word with herself about teamwork and judgment.

Well, all that was left was to figure out which idiot her heart had decided on.

They both had forceful personalities, immense strength, and brightly colored hair, all of which she liked for whatever reason. They were both very straightforward and clueless in some ways, which had her approval because she didn't know how to play social games any more than they did. Plus, she would prefer to be the smart half of her first real relationship.

Her feelings for Renji had been slightly more than platonic ever since that chance encounter nearly a decade ago. As kids, they had been each other's whole world. They lived together and saved each other's lives so many times they never even tried to keep track. The years of separation had given them enough distance that such a relationship would no longer feel inappropriate. They had both changed, so now they held some mystery for each other while retaining a bond so strong it defied description.

Ichigo, of course, looked remarkably like Kaien, but it was more than that. The sudden, forced intimacy of going from strangers to living together overnight meant they had to skip a lot of steps in the normal course of becoming acquainted. Depending on each other so heavily built the kind of trust that usually took years. Constant exposure forced them to deal with each other's idiosyncrasies, while one crisis after another gave them the perspective to ignore that which was unimportant.

For her, Renji had turned against everyone he knew at the drop of a hat, and Ichigo had literally stormed the gates of heaven. She knew beyond any doubt that they would do it again. She would do the same for both of them.

Who was she in love with?

Oh.

Rukia sighed heavily, drawing concerned glances from the men on either side. Her selfishness had no limit. Her greed was without precedent. She was distantly impressed with her sheer audacity.

She loved them both.

Therefore, she deserved neither.


	8. The Joys of Puberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo is a teenage boy.

Ichigo was in a bad mood. He seemed to suffer a lot of those recently. Then again, it was hardly his fault. Renji was getting on his last nerve. They weren't even arguing about anything specific, but Ichigo had a growing feeling that he needed to get away and it needed to happen five minutes ago.

Ichigo usually liked Renji despite the circumstances of their meeting. One minute the redhead had been trying to kill him, the next brokenly begging him to save Rukia. The man was unstable, and hopelessly in love with a crazy girl barely half his height.

Well, the situation was more complicated than that, but it hurt Ichigo's head to think about it and he just wished they would get on with it already. He would step aside and wish them happiness. Really. But until then, his moods would be pretty sour. Ichigo had always wanted things he couldn't have, and this was no exception.

He remembered being happy and content once upon a time; but then there was only grief and wishing his mother would come back. When the grief and loneliness had faded, he wanted nothing more than to have a normal life. After he became a shinigami, the thing he wanted most was strength to protect the people he cared about.

Ichigo wanted too much. He wanted everything. He _still_ wanted to be normal and live a normal life. He wanted more strength than he would ever need. He wanted world peace and an end to suffering. He wanted chaos and carnage and battle and blood. He wanted to be alone in his own head and not share every thought with a living sword and a bloodthirsty psycho - with a bonus confusion about which was which. He especially wanted to NOT have the body of a teenage guy right now.

Ichigo made an excuse and left Rukia and Renji to their boring-ass patrol. The hormones tearing through his body were making him cranky as well as physically uncomfortable. He wondered idly if he could be considered a necrophiliac, since the girl who stirred him up like this was technically dead.

Then again, Rukia hadn't _done_ anything. It was Renji he had been arguing with and who had made his blood boil, but Ichigo was pretty sure it was Rukia's presence that caused his body's reaction. At least that's what he told himself in order to avoid an even worse mood. Ichigo would give up and let his Hollow run the show if he turned out to be a _gay_ necrophiliac. That would just be too much.

No, he definitely wasn't gay. Back when Ichigo was fifteen and Rukia was living in his closet like some kind of twisted metaphor, her nearness almost drove him crazy.

Still, she was dead and he was alive, and if he couldn't have her, Ichigo knew he wanted Renji to take care of her. Why Renji? He had no fuckin idea.

Oh hell no. He was not a gay necrophiliac. For pure shock value he'd rather be a gay plushophile exhibitionist; then he could fuck Kon in public and traumatize the whole world before handing the reins to Shirosaki and killing himself.

Also, he needed to stop hanging out with Keigo. His hyper classmate was turning Ichigo into a pervert. There were certain things he never needed to learn.

_Quit foolin' yerself, King._

Ichigo had been able to feel the Hollow moving in the back of his head all day. The presence in his mind coiled like a titanic snake under the ocean, its movements sending ripples through Ichigo's psyche.

 _What do you want?_ He mentally addressed the Hollow.

_You should go gay for that shinigami. That way we both get what we want._

_What the fuck? What the hell kind of difference does it make to you?_

_It's lonely in here. I'm so bored that old man Zangetsu is starting to look good._

_Wait one goddamn minute! NO creepy soulcest! Wait… you're a Hollow. What interest could you possibly have in sex?_

_I don't. It's not my fault you're too dense to notice._

_Notice what?_

Low, eerie, laughter rang through Ichigo's head. _Why don't you find out?_

The presence vanished and the waters calmed. The snake was still.

 _Well, that was creepy_. No use dwelling on it. No, Ichigo decided to jump in the shower and think about that girl on TV who had caught his eye the other day. She was tiny, with short black hair and this fascinating tattoo swirling up one thigh...

A half hour later, Ichigo stepped out of the shower feeling so relaxed that he was still a little wobbly. His mind was pleasantly numb for once, and he didn't even bother getting dressed. Padding into his room with only a towel slung around his hips, he threw Kon out the window so hard the plush lion vanished into orbit, and flopped on the bed, hoping his sisters and his idiot father didn't barge in before he felt like putting on clothes.

As Ichigo drifted asleep, Rukia's voice did not haunt his dreams. He did not see her mischievous expression or her blue eyes full of mystery.

Instead, he was haunted by the voices of those he had killed.

Instead, he saw Inoue's face filled with horror and loathing, her eyes fixed on his mask as he drove his sword through Ishida's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of arc 1!


	9. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulterior motives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of Arc 2!

Renji woke before sunrise. There would be no more sleep for him tonight.

He had dreamt last night. It had been nothing special, just a simple memory of being ordered back to Seireitei before the Winter War, the spirit gate opening to reveal the forms of Byakuya and Kenpachi, and his decision to desert the Gotei 13 and follow Ichigo to Hueco Mundo as soon as he could escape the captains. The dream ended after the gate closed behind him.

Renji dressed, stretching a little to work the last of the sleep from his body. He knew what he needed to do, and he knew who could help him do it.

The time had come to leave the Sixth. He had proven it when the captain-commander ordered them back to Seireitei, by force if necessary. Zaraki and Byakuya had walked through the gate, and Renji had spoken, startled, "Taicho!" He had not been looking at Byakuya. It was time for Renji to finally surpass the captain.

He finally had the chance. The string of crises had ended. Only one more step, and he would be ready. One more step, and Renji would go home. Not to the uptight and rule-bound Sixth, not to the cutthroat anarchy of Rukongai, not even to the savage yet honorable Eleventh. Renji would break the chains of tradition and bureaucracy that crippled Seireitei. He would carve a place for himself and remake his part of the world into his own, into something better.

First, he needed strength.

"Ichigo! Time to wak-ACK!" Renji leapt through the window only to get socked in the nose and thrown into the wall.

"Shut up... Dad... too early," Ichigo mumbled and then resumed his light snoring.

Renji leapt to his feet, intending to jump on Ichigo and strangle him, when he saw that the teenager was splayed out on the bed completely naked, his morning erection straining majestically toward the ceiling.

With his typical grace, Renji burst out swearing at maximum volume, which woke Ichigo, along with the rest of the household. Five chaotic minutes of heavy property damage later, and the two of them were thrown out on the doorstep, the door slamming behind them, the lock clicking into place.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Your family is insane."

"You're telling me."

They stared blankly for a few seconds.

"Well, at least you're dressed now."

"What did you want, anyway?"

"Uh, wanna train?"

"You woke me up at this hour for _that_?"

"Not our usual sparrin'. I've put this off for too long already, and you're gonna help me."

"What if I say no?"

"You got somethin' better to do?"

"Yeah, sleep."

"How? You're locked out of the house."

"Shit."

"So..."

"This is your fault. Why should I help-" Ichigo was interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach.

"We can eat at Urahara's before we go to Seireitei..."

"Fine, whatever."

They began walking.

"So, what kind of training were you planning?"

Renji opened his mouth to answer, then thought twice, thought three times, and chickened out. He'd start with something else, "Kido."

"What? No way, Renji."

"It's one of the four main methods of combat!"

"Don't care."

"It'll help ya control your reiatsu."

"Still don't care."

"Listen, everyone dies eventually. Unless you want to join the Eleventh or kill one of the other captains personally – I suggest Kurotsuchi, by the way – there's no way you'll get into the Gotei 13 without knowin' some kido."

"Not interested."

"Look, all the battle methods reinforce and affect each other. Spells, hand-to-hand, weapons, and flash-step; the strongest fighters, - even if they aren't shinigami - are good at them all. Quincy have some version of all four, so do Arrancar. _You_ could use all the methods since you're-"

"-Eleventh doesn't seem to need this shit, and they're supposedly the strongest fighters of the Gotei 13," Ichigo hurriedly cut him off. It seemed the kid was still a bit touchy about his bizarre heritage.

Renji lowered his voice, "Imagine if they did. Go ahead. Imagine the captain with kido, with flash-step, imagine Zaraki-taicho with _bankai_."

Ichigo walked in silence.

Belatedly, Renji realized what he should have said from the start, "One more thing, Ichigo. We both know that some opponents can make our zanpakuto useless. We rely too much on our swords, and do ya really want to lose a fight you might have won? Do you want someone to die when ya could have stopped it?"

"That's low, Renji."

"It's true."

"Okay, why me?"

Renji looked at the ground. It was easier that way, "Well, uh, we've both mastered the other three? At this point, it takes a lot of trainin' to improve even a little bit."

"The law of diminishing returns?"

Renji gave Ichigo a blank look.

"Never mind. But I still don't see why it has to be me. I mean, wouldn't Rukia be better..."

"Nah, the best way to learn somethin' is to teach it."

Ichigo paused for a moment, like he sensed Renji was hiding something, "Bullshit, you just want somebody even worse at it than you are."

Renji cringed, "Well, maybe I don't want to humiliate myself in front of other officers? That pretty much just leaves you."

"Gee, thanks a lot."

"That's not what I meant! There's another reason it has to be you, I just don't want to get into it right now. Tell ya what, when we get sick of kido – and we will – we can work off frustration by beatin' the shit outta each other."

"First good idea you've had, Renji."

"Shut up. We're here."

After breakfast, Ichigo left his body in Urahara's spare room, and Renji opened the gate to Soul Society.


	10. Frustraion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo is frustrated.

Ichigo was going to murder Renji.

He knew the training would suck. He expected it to be miserable at first, but he never imagined it would be this bad.

Ichigo's entire body ached, and his joints screamed in pain. The burns on his arms itched horribly and he couldn't concentrate worth a shit.

He couldn't control his reiatsu, so for a successful kido, he needed complete focus on the words. If he spared one flickering thought for how shitty the poetry was, or how much he wanted to kill Renji, the spells backfired and blew up in his face. Which only made him angrier at the crappy poetry and the dumbfuck red-haired death god who had talked him into this. Which meant his concentration got even _worse_ , escalating the cycle.

If that shit still wasn't bad enough, the aches in his body and his screaming joints were all thanks to sparring with Renji.

Ichigo was fairly certain that if he went bankai and brought out his mask, he could carve Renji up like a roast. Probably. However, they had left their zanpakuto at the other end of the enormous cavern. Ichigo decided that had been a mistake.

He had failed to appreciate that Renji had inches of reach and decades of experience on his side. Worse, Ichigo's greater reiatsu was useless fighting hand to hand, and Renji's fighting style allowed no room for mercy.

Ichigo had a solid grasp of karate and judo, and could hold his own against almost anyone in a street fight. But Renji seemed to use a cross between muay thai and brazilian jujitsu. His strikes were ruthless and aimed for the weakest points of the body. His grappling deliberately wrenched delicate joints and pounded full force into pressure points. Ichigo knew that if it wasn't for his spirit-body's reiatsu, he would have been a pile of broken bones, if not dead from internal bleeding and ruptured organs. He just hoped he'd given Renji back a fraction of the pain. For now, he took aim at the paper target.

"O Lord. Mask of blood and flesh," Ichigo pictured how he'd grab Renji's hair and wrench his head back, then tear out the redhead's throat with his _teeth_. "All creation, flutter of wings," he imagined the texture and the taste of the shinigami's blood. "The one who bears the name of Man!" he ran tongue over teeth, testing their sharpness. "Inferno and chaos, the sea barrier-"

Ichigo's muscles were surging with adrenaline and frustration, so this spell was the most spectacular failure yet. The fireball seemed to engulf the universe. When the flames died down, Ichigo could smell his burnt clothes and hair as he collapsed onto his back.

"Motherfucker!" he choked out with far less volume than he expected. Oh, he was in a world of pain. Then Ichigo recalled what he had been thinking _instead_ of concentrating on the spell, and suddenly the obscenity did not seem to be enough. "Cockshit! Pissfuck!" Stupid, but slightly more creative. What the hell was his mind doing to him? Either his Hollow was getting to him or he had been some kind of bloodthirsty carnivore in a past life and he was regressing.

Ichigo decided to blame Shiro. The Hollow had been acting strangely for some time. The voice in his mind hissed with pleasure whenever Ichigo set his eyes on Renji, and howled with delight when they sparred. He screamed for the king to bring out his mask; demanding to come out and play. Whenever Ichigo questioned his sudden interest, he was met only by the Hollow's unsettling laughter.

"Ichigo, you okay in there?" Renji stuck his head through the cloud of smoke and eyed Ichigo with concern. "Tell me you weren't trying _shakkaho_ before you can even manage _byakurai_."

"Renji, if you say one more annoying thing, I swear I will crawl over to Zangetsu and we will tear you apart."

"Don't tempt me." Renji grinned. The only other people who looked that shark-like while smiling were Kenpachi and Ikkaku. Maybe it was an Eleventh Squad thing. Ichigo could see the recruitment posters now: 'Join today and get a free tooth-file!'

Realizing that his concentration was hopelessly fucked, Ichigo grunted and moved his battered spirit body, levering himself to his feet. "Let's call it a day."

After walking for a few minutes, they rounded an outcropping and saw the spring just ahead.

Renji loosed his hair and shed his clothes as Ichigo struggled with one of his shoes. With a loud whoop, the shinigami launched himself into the air, hitting the water in a cannonball. Ichigo couldn't help a grin as he continued to fumble with the ties of his shihakusho.

Renji surfaced and flipped his long hair onto his back with a dramatic whip of his head.

"Damn, I'm glad this spring is here!" Renji exclaimed before Ichigo could even ask about the sudden enthusiasm. "Before I remembered its healin' powers, I thought we'd have to go to Fourth or try to fix each other up with kido," he leaned back against the edge with a relaxed sigh.

Ichigo shook his head. Healing spells were nowhere near as dangerous as using destructive kido, but it would have made his mood even worse if he had to wave his hands over Renji and spout bad poetry only to have absolutely nothing happen…

Strange. Ichigo realized he'd gone from murderous rage to feeling amused and almost happy in the span of a few seconds. Damn teenage moodiness.

Ichigo stepped into the spring, wading out to the middle. He lowered his head and splashed the water on his singed scalp, sighing as the horrible itch vanished. He only managed to raise his head partway back up before something fascinating caught his attention. The rippling surface of the water hid the details, but the wavering black lines told Ichigo one thing for certain: Renji had tattoos on his thighs. His mind flashed back to the girl on TV, and he felt his face heat. When had he developed a tattoo fetish? Ichigo spent a few minutes searching his memory for when and how that particular preference had started...

Coming up blank, Ichigo realized that he had been staring way too long. He flicked his eyes up to Renji's face hoping he hadn't been caught. The redhead was still leaning back against the edge. His eyes were half closed, giving him an almost lazy air, but his gaze pierced straight into the substitute shinigami.

The wheels in Ichigo's mind kicked into overdrive, embarrassed, trying to read Renji's expression, trying to think of something to say, wondering if he should just pretend nothing had happened and he hadn't been caught doing anything because really he _hadn't_ been doing anything and-

Renji stood.

Ichigo's mind went from 'warning' to 'panic' as he continued to notice things he really shouldn't be noticing.

He couldn't help it as his eyes tracked the streams of water rolling down Renji's body, the slight distortion of his tattoos caused by the drops of water. When standing, the spring barely reached the top of his hips. His eyes were still half-lidded and his face unreadable as he slowly moved in Ichigo's direction while the teenager was trying not to hyperventilate. Ichigo couldn't breathe; it felt like he was going to drown...

The edge of the spring hit Ichigo's back. He must have been backing away. He licked his dry lips, trying to say something. Maybe "what the fuck?" or anything that would hopefully break the spell of whatever was happening, but he couldn't form words and he couldn't tear his eyes from Renji's detached expression. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel his pulse in his lips.

Ichigo's mind went from 'panic' to 'system failure' when Renji reached out and rested his hands on the edge of the spring on either side of Ichigo's body, effectively trapping him. Ichigo leaned back as the shinigami loomed over him, not touching him, not saying anything, still wearing that same expression of detached curiosity. He was leaning in, leaning in so far that his long hair brushed over Ichigo's stomach, making him shudder. The touch of Renji's hair seemed to wake a butterfly just under his ribs, which began flailing as desperately as Ichigo wanted to. He was too close, a single deep inhale would bring them into contact.

A sudden rush of determination, a spark of anger at the shinigami looming over him; Ichigo refused to be intimidated by the other man's height.

"Renji!" Ichigo's voice finally worked, though it was a little high-pitched. The shinigami's eyes lost their distant look, but he didn't step back. Didn't even move his long hair which was still leaving cold, wet trails on Ichigo's trembling stomach. "Renji!" Ichigo gasped, much more quietly, "What - what about Rukia?"

Renji straightened, his eyes completely open. Instead of replying, he stepped to one side and hoisted himself out of the spring, walking over to his discarded shihakusho. Ichigo kept his eyes facing forward, refusing to turn and catch a glimpse of the shinigami's undoubtedly tattooed ass. The fact that he wanted to was horrible enough.

"We should train with bankai tomorrow. I'm already sick of this kido shit," Renji's voice floated from behind him. "Ya wanna stay here or go back tonight?"

"There's somewhere I can stay?"

"You'll have to stay with me, I guess. Lots of paperwork to set up somethin' else."

Much to his dismay, Ichigo couldn't help a blush, "You do have an extra futon, right?"

There was a slight pause, "Yeah." Renji had stifled a sarcastic reply. Ichigo knew then that it hadn't been his imagination. Something really _had_ happened.


	11. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys train.

Over the next few months, Ichigo and Renji met nearly every day. Ichigo had finished his classwork for the semester, and Renji had little paperwork since the Seireitei bureaucracy was still wrecked after the wars. No doubt some shinigami were using the opportunity to slack off, but everybody still mostly did what they were supposed to, and the best part was that they didn't bother Renji about it. That was just fine with him, since without that bullshit he could do something that mattered.

Nothing like this would ever happen again if Renji could help it. Seireitei had finally finished mourning, the fallen were being replaced, and it was time for everyone to move on. For now, as always, Renji reached for strength.

Most of the time, Ichigo and Renji stayed in the living world and raced with shunpo or sparred in bankai beneath Urahara's store. But when they attempted kido, they needed access to texts that could not be taken out of Seireitei. Ichigo would leave his body with Kon and spend a few days in Soul Society.

Renji thought Ichigo was close to a breakthrough. Most of his spells didn't blow up or fail completely. Instead, his kido would materialize, then sputter and die before reaching the target. It was progress of a sort. Renji stayed nearby, working on his own kido and occasionally watching Ichigo while giving advice. Depending on Renji's own level of frustration, his instructions varied in helpfulness from "Only bend the second joint of the third finger," to "Try not sucking at kido."

This time, they had been working for so long that Ichigo looked dead on his feet. Another spell fizzled and flew off in the wrong direction.

After a few minutes, Renji stopped him. "Hey, we both need a break and it's fuckin' late. Wanna stay here or are ya goin' back?"

Ichigo groaned, "I don't know if I'd make it through the gate. Anyway, class doesn't start for two weeks."

With that decided, they washed off in the healing spring, ate, and trudged into Renji's rooms, tired and sore.

The place was still empty, but at least it was cleaner than it had been. The first time Ichigo had seen where Renji lived had been embarrassing for both of them. The rooms contained one low table, two futons, and three blankets. The decor was a display of the dust-and-cobwebs school of interior decorating. Ichigo's stunned silence upon entering had made his thoughts painfully clear. And Renji almost wanted to apologize.

Renji socialized in the bars; he worked in the office, ate at the mess hall, kept himself clean and presentable in the locker room, and spent his free time at the training grounds or at the Eleventh. The only thing he did in his quarters was sleep. It was a routine he had never thought to break.

The Eleventh had private quarters only for the captain and vice-captain. Everyone else slept in one large bunkhouse. Each bed had one footlocker for personal items, but those lockers were routinely destroyed in drunken brawls.

Before that, he'd spent his childhood living on the street.

Renji had never learned how to maintain a living space, and was uncomfortable with personal possessions that couldn't be worn or kept on his person.

These days, Renji's place almost looked lived-in. Having Ichigo around so much must be good for him. Yumichika had stopped him the other day and declared as much, saying that the two of them made a beautiful couple. Renji had sent the fifth seat a death glare, but he hadn't said anything in reply. Renji was old enough and experienced enough to recognize what was going on, and neither he nor Ichigo seemed to be able to stop it. He just hadn't realized it had gotten to the point that other people were picking up on it.

The last thing Renji needed was more confusion and frustration in his life, but he couldn't help himself. It wasn't even a passing lust he could get out of his system with a few bottles of sake and a single sweaty night that neither of them would speak of again. He actually _liked_ the surly teenager. He wanted to trust him, knew he was trustworthy. More importantly, he _needed_ to trust Ichigo. It was a disgrace that Renji was still hiding things from him. He promised himself that tomorrow he would ask for Ichigo's help.

Renji rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the stiffness. Tomorrow could wait. It was definitely time for bed.

Tomorrow, he needed to ask. Renji could feel himself running out of time.


	12. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up.

Ichigo stripped down to his hakama and prepared to sleep.

Across the room, Renji heaved a sigh as he tried to massage a knot out of his shoulder. "Fuckin' killin' me. Hey Ichigo, would ya give me a hand with this?"

Ichigo's stomach flip-flopped nervously, "Wh-what?"

"My muscles are all cramped up after trainin', and I can't reach the worst part."

Ichigo hesitated, "Uh..."

"What's the problem?"

"Why can't you just do what you usually do?"

"Quit bein' a girl. Usually I have a hot bath. Urahara's spring has magical healin' properties and shit, but it ain't exactly warm."

This was bad, but refusing would be even worse, since Renji would ask questions Ichigo wasn't keen on answering. He had been trying _really hard_ to suppress certain things and this was _not helping_. He stole a glance at the shinigami. Renji's hair was tied up in its usual style, which somehow made him look safer, more controlled. "Whatever."

Renji shrugged off the sleeves of his shihakusho, letting the fabric pool around his waist, and lay on his stomach. Ichigo reached out, glad that his hands shook only a little, and rested the flat of his palms on the other man's back. He ran his fingers over the skin to feel where the muscles had knotted up, and pressed down, working on the knots with small circles. Ichigo's nerves were still on edge. The tattoos were driving him crazy. Ichigo realized with a growing dismay how badly he wanted to trace the patterns with his fingertips, or worse. He tried closing his eyes so he couldn't see the tattoos, but then the smell and feel of warm skin overwhelmed his senses. So he kept his eyes open, watching the tattoos as they moved slightly over Renji's strong back with the massage and the shinigami's breathing.

Even with all his willpower, Ichigo couldn't help his body's reaction. He had little experience with the feel of another person's skin, less experience with people outside his family, and none whatsoever since he hit puberty. How was Ichigo supposed to control something he'd never experienced before? Story of his life.

When there were no obvious knots left in Renji's back, Ichigo stopped, breaking contact with a horrible mixture of reluctance and relief. "Alright, I think you're done."

Renji said nothing, and Ichigo scooted awkwardly to the other futon. He would need to lie on his stomach for a while, but that couldn't be helped. As he finally settled in, Ichigo was startled by a warm hand on his bare back.

"You want me to return the favor?" Renji's voice was lower than usual, and Ichigo's panic-butterfly woke up.

"N-no I'm f-fine." Why in the hell was he stuttering like a little kid? "I'm fine."

"Are you sure about that?" The hand on his back vanished and with a sudden rush of vertigo Ichigo found himself flipped on his back, his embarrassing condition now obvious to anyone who cared to look. But Renji did not look, his eyes fixed on Ichigo's face.

Ichigo noticed with a distant panic that Renji's hair was loose, the crimson mass brushed the floor as he leaned over Ichigo. He looked truly wild with his hair down. His eyes had a hard glint even in the dim light. A hand was firmly pressed on Ichigo's lower stomach, right above his tented hakama, holding him in place.

Ichigo repeated the only thing that seemed safe, "Renji... What about Rukia?"

"Do you love her?" was Renji's response. He did not move his hand.

"I asked first!" Ichigo said petulantly. The shinigami gave him a hard look, and after a moment, Ichigo crumbled, "Of course I do... She's easy to love." He looked away. He hadn't known how painful the confession would be.

"No." Renji paused, his hand began to slide upward, and for the first time in his life, Ichigo wished he was chubby, so it wasn't so obvious how his muscles flexed as the warm hand slid up his body.

Renji spoke again, "Rukia is not easy to love… But, it is impossible not to love her." His hand stopped flat against Ichigo's chest. The teenager was certain Renji could feel the wild beating of his heart.

"It never gets any easier?" He already knew.

"It never hurts less," Renji confirmed.

"What do we do?" Ichigo was struck by how surreal the situation was.

"We..." Renji's voice was distant. "We are both... used to pain."

The hand began to slide back down his body, rough calluses catching slightly, and Ichigo felt goosebumps break out over his skin. He could feel a shiver run through his muscles, and hoped it was too slight for Renji to notice.

"Why me?" He did not need to clarify. _Why me, right now, why are we doing this_?

"We're the same."

"Is that the only reason?" Ichigo resolved to push the other man off him if this was for convenience and self-pity.

Renji looked straight into his eyes. "No." The hand had stopped, again resting just above his hakama. "No."

Ichigo took a moment, considered his options. Decided. Then, instead of replying, he reached up and wound his fingers through Renji's hair, pulling him down.

It felt like drowning.


	13. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued...

Ichigo kissed with a ferocity that overcame his lack of skill. Renji was starting to run out of breath when he felt a sharp tug at the back of his head. With something bordering on desperation, the teenager yanked him back by his hair and scraped his teeth down the column of Renji's throat.

Renji couldn't suppress a strangled moan. Ichigo was rough and raw and exactly what he needed. The sound seemed to snap something inside the substitute shinigami. Suddenly Renji was forced onto his back hard enough to knock the wind out of a weaker man. Ichigo held him down with immense strength, running his tongue roughly over the pattern of tattoos on Renji's chest.

The teenager moved with an abandon that anyone else might have mistaken for experience. When he raised his head to give Renji a scorching look, the shinigami could swear Ichigo's eyes were shaded yellow. Something desperate and starving had been and locked away inside the teenager, and he had just unleashed it. Still pinning him to the futon and tracing the tattoos with his tongue, the substitute shinigami shoved his hand down the front of Renji's hakama.

The rough treatment set Renji's body on fire, and he came in an embarrassingly short amount of time. He gritted his teeth as his overwhelmed senses blocked out the world for a short eternity.

When he came back down, Renji opened his eyes and found Ichigo staring at him. The teenager looked slightly stunned. Renji realized he must be a mess, with his hair all over the place and his hakama barely clinging to his hips.

Noticing Renji's gaze, Ichigo looked away, a small sound of dismay escaping his lips as he inspected his hand. Renji sat up and located one of his bandanas, grabbing Ichigo's hand and cleaning off the mess. Ichigo turned his eyes back to Renji, his expression becoming a bit lost and almost vulnerable. Renji vowed not to give him any time for regret, and grabbed Ichigo's shoulders, guiding him down to the futon.

Renji knew he had to hold back, at least this time, or he'd risk overwhelming such an inexperienced partner. Renji leaned over Ichigo, running his rough hands over his skin. When one hand slipped into his hakama, Ichigo let out a gasp and grabbed Renji's shoulders hard enough to bruise. He didn't meet Renji's gaze, eyes either fluttering closed with sensation or staring at the tattoos beneath his grip on Renji's shoulders.

After a few minutes, Renji could tell that Ichigo was holding back. He thought for a moment until he remembered the vulnerable look, and suddenly understood the death-grip on his shoulders.

Not breaking the rhythm, Renji leaned closer to the other body, his voice hoarse and breathless, "You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let ya go. Not after this."

Ichigo's eyes flew open, and seconds later his back arched as he let out a strangled gasp. Renji used the bandana to clean them both up and threw it aside before settling back on the futon. Ichigo's eyes were closed, but he held his body stiff and Renji could feel the anxiety pouring off him.

 _Does he think I'm a liar, or is he just that insecure_? Renji wondered to himself. He was happy enough to answer the wordless plea and settled against the younger body, throwing an arm around Ichigo's waist and drawing them together. He could feel the substitute shinigami sag as tension drained out of him. They were both tired and drained, and began to drift off to sleep when Ichigo spoke softly.

"So what is this… second best?"

Renji sighed and readjusted his hold on Ichigo's waist, "Maybe, but not by much. Wanted this for a while…"

Ichigo mumbled something that might have been "...me too." Then he said aloud, "Is this the other reason you wanted me to train with you?"

"Not exactly. I'll tell ya the real reason tomorrow." He would. Renji would trust Ichigo not to turn against him. Renji needed help, and it was about time he asked for it.


	14. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery is revealed.

Ichigo drifted awake in a tangle of heavy limbs and warm skin. He was sleepy and content and would have happily drifted off again if it wasn't for the thunderstorm roaring in his ear.

He cracked open his eyes to find his head resting on a shoulder, and Ichigo found himself staring across an expanse of skin. The blanket had been kicked partway off in the middle of the night, exposing swells of muscle and black tribal tattoos.

He remembered the previous night.

Ordinarily, Ichigo would blush crimson and then freak out, but he was feeling far too content to panic at the moment, and there were _tattoos_ in front of his eyes that were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Ichigo lifted his hand and slowly traced the designs with the tips of his fingers, deciding this was the best wake-up ever. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't even notice that the snoring had stopped rattling the bones in his skull. He _did_ notice the flinch when he tried to trace the patterns on Renji's stomach. Ichigo looked up to see the shinigami watching him.

"That kinda tickles." Renji's voice was raspy from sleep.

Again, Ichigo considered panicking and, again, decided he was too relaxed to bother, "Morning."

"Glad you're not freakin' out."

"I'm thinking about it." Ichigo warned, propping himself up on one elbow, "Care to explain last night?"

"Really?" Renji chuckled, "Well, you see when two people feel a certain way about each other –"

"That's not what I mean, dumbass!" this time Ichigo did blush, "I meant about what you said."

"That kinda talk is for women," Renji grumped. When Ichigo started to reply, Renji groaned and threw one arm over his eyes. "You can want more than one person, y'know," he mumbled through his elbow.

"No, we went over that too," was Renji always this slow? "I meant about why I have to be the one to train with you."

"Oh. That. Well, I guess I'll just show you. After breakfast." Renji was clearly uneasy, but Ichigo decided to let it go.

After wolfing down their food in silence, they raced with shunpo to the hidden cavern. Soon, Renji's uneasiness was starting to affect Ichigo.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Do you remember when a bunch of us went to the living world before the war?"

"What about it?"

Renji was starting to fidget, "I went to Urahara's to ask him something."

"I remember."

"Well, I wanted to ask him a favor. A huge favor. He said if I'd work for him until the war, and if I survived the war, he'd do what I asked. He had me trainin' Chad, cleanin' the shop, runnin' errands, and any other stuff he could think of," Renji grimaced and looked uncomfortable, "but he kept his word."

They had reached the center of the cavern, and Ichigo suddenly felt something a lot like dread. He stopped, and Renji turned around, squaring off with him.

"Take out your mask, Ichigo."

The dread turned to horror. "Renji, no, you didn't…" Without thinking, one hand went to his face, beginning the motion that would bring out the mask. The horror deepened when Renji mirrored his stance. In the back of his mind, Ichigo's Hollow roared with anticipation, shrieking with psychotic glee. Renji's shark-like grin suddenly looked too much like a Hollow's mask.

"Renji, _why_?" Not long ago, Ichigo had loathed the Hollow inside him. He would have given anything to banish it. Had Renji actually subjected himself to the same hell of his own free will?

"I need the strength to change my fate, Ichigo. The same as you. Now let's do this."

With a single motion, the fighters brought out their masks. The Vaizards roared and leapt into battle, tearing into each other with a vicious joy no living creature could comprehend.


	15. Completion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing piece.

Rukia stood in the ruins of the execution grounds. She had not been here since her own execution, and her mind flooded with images. She remembered how the grounds became ruins in the first place, and all the events surrounding it. The rescue, Seireitei fracturing, captains turning on each other, and the two men who had done the impossible to save her, who pushed themselves past the bounds of reason to drag her out from the clutches of a madman who had all the authority of the Council behind him.

Even with the reiatsu-tracking device, it took Rukia several minutes to find the hidden entrance to Urahara's training ground. She shivered as she finally left the ruins of the Sokyouku behind her, and wondered why Ukitake-taicho had insisted that Rukia, and only Rukia, investigate this matter.

Twelfth had been picking up ominous reiatsu for over a week. The skyrocketing Hollow-like power never lasted more than a few seconds, so it had taken this long to pin down the location. At first everyone had assumed that some of the vizard were breaking the rule against using their masks in Soul Society. Yamamoto was gone, after all, and after the wars, Seireitei – what was left of it – lacked both the resources and motivation to prosecute any of its remaining officers for something as petty as distasteful training.

Rukia opened the hatch and dropped into the cavern. She was highly skilled at hiding her presence, but double-checked that her reiatsu was completely suppressed before shifting into shunpo and flashing rapidly toward the distant reiatsu.

Moments later, Rukia understood why Captain Ukitake had insisted on sending her.

She kept her presence hidden, trying to understand the scene before her.

Renji lay flat on his back, Ichigo standing not far away. Both of them were using bankai and gasping for breath. Renji was speaking between gulps of air.

"I still… can't hold… for… more'n… three… seconds…"

Ichigo used the wall as support as he staggered over to Renji. "You…you'll get there," he leaned down and offered Renji a hand up.

Renji accepted the offer, his other hand bracing on Ichigo's waist to steady himself. Rukia instinctively knew it was far too intimate a gesture for mere sparring partners. After Renji had found his balance, Ichigo sagged against him, and Rukia fought against the swell of painful emotion.

Ichigo suddenly straightened. "Rukia?"

This caught Renji's attention, "What? Where?"

"I don't know. She's here, though. I can tell. Rukia!"

There was no helping it. Rukia let her kido spells dissolve and stepped out into clear view of the couple – for that was what they were – and put on her most professional air.

"I have been sent by Ukitake-taicho to investigate possible Arrancar reiatsu in this vicinity," she said in her best clipped tones. "I am curious how you were able to detect my presence."

Ichigo gave her a tired smile as he stepped over to her. Rukia forced herself not to back away. "Your power awakened my own, remember?" he reached out and rested the tip of his fingers against her chest, "You will always be a part of me. There's nowhere you can go that I won't be able to find you."

Rukia had trouble maintaining her professional air. She wanted to cry and find a rock to crawl under, but at the same time everything about this scene was confusing and none of it made any sense at all. "Do you know anything about the Hollow reiatsu? Ichigo, if it was you, Twelfth should have recognized your reiatsu signature. In that case their equipment must be malfunctioning. Also, it is forbidden to use vizard masks inside Seireitei. Even though you are not bound to our law, it would be courteous to refrain..." She was babbling. Rukia knew she was babbling, and her voice had started to shake as Renji stepped up beside Ichigo. They did not seem conscious of how close they were standing – to each other or to her – and Rukia was feeling backed into a corner.

"Rukia, what's going on?" Renji reached a large hand toward her.

"That's what I'd like to know!" She was being irrational, and she knew it, but by the heavens, if she was going to lose them, she was going to make a memory of it. Rukia grabbed Renji by the collar and dragged him down to her level, kissing him deeply and trying to memorize the experience. She let go of the stunned shinigami, and before either of them could react she grabbed Ichigo and did the same.

Renji tasted like smoke and spice, with a hint of mint. Ichigo tasted like mint, and Rukia thought she detected a hint of smoke. The last of her doubts vanished. She released Ichigo's lapels and pushed him away.

Both men looked slightly dazed, and Rukia decided to leave before she made an even bigger fool of herself. "I'm going to tell Ukitake-taicho that the reiatsu belonged to the substitute shinigami, I don't care whether or not it is correct. Goodbye." As she turned to leave, strong hands stopped her.

"Uh, Rukia?" Renji had been the first to find his voice, "Not that either of us are complainin', but what was that about?"

Now Rukia was furious. "What do you think that was about? I come here and find both the men I love all over each other and I figure I might as well have a memory to -" Rukia couldn't finish. She had lost so much in her life, and now she had lost both of them as well. Rukia felt on the very edge of breaking.

"B-both of us?" this time it was Ichigo who spoke. Both men gaped.

"Are you deaf? That's what I said! I know, I'm horrible and selfish but-" she was cut off by Ichigo's lips on hers. Still confused, but not about to pass up a good thing, Rukia melted against him and fisted her hands in his robes demandingly.

When they broke for air, Rukia felt strong arms wrap around her from behind. Renji scooped her up and flash-stepped toward the entrance of the cavern, Ichigo in close pursuit.

Then they were in Renji's quarters, and there was a blur of words and confessions tumbling over each other and as soon as she figured out the situation, she was demanding that they not wait another minute and did they have any idea how long it had been for her? She had Ichigo in front of her and was in the middle of trying to undress him when she realized Renji was moving back.

"Renji come over here, it has to be both of you!"

"What? Do you know what you're saying? Won't that hurt?"

She gave him a hard look. "We are all accustomed to pain." She reached behind her and pressed Renji to her back then finished stripping Ichigo of his clothing. Then she was lost, pressed between hard bodies and strong limbs and vivid hair and a sea of heat and motion.

It felt like drowning.


	16. Choose Your Own Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue 1: Drama  
> Epilogue 2: Comedy  
> Reader's choice!

Drama or Comedy? You decide!

WARNING: Reading both endings in one sitting may cause mood whiplash. A break between them is recommended. I am not liable for any injuries.

  
I. Drama  
II. Comedy

Epilogue 1: Balance

Rukia went to Renji once after Ichigo had gone home. She thought nothing of it; _they_ had been together without _her_ , after all.

She went to him alone.

Across the room he had met her eyes, and neither of them had spoken. In the light of a dim candle they undressed each other slowly, with touches that shook. He touched her like she was made of gossamer and eggshell. She clung to him like he was all that stood between her and an endless fall. She was amazed that neither of them wept.

They skated over the surface of a bottomless well of emotion. What mysteries were hidden in the depths of such a bond? Shaking breaths and a slow rocking motion built until for a moment, Rukia thought she saw death.

"We need him here," she whispered, "Or this will break us."

He said nothing as he buried his face in her neck.

She combed her fingers though his long, long hair, and marveled at the darkness, at the power of the currents. Left to themselves, they would drown in these depths, be crushed by the pressure of their history and swept away. Ichigo was the buoy that tethered them to sanity and kept them alive.

The three of them would never be without each other again.

End.

Epilogue 2: Gossip

Seireitei has a saying: Gossip travels even faster than flash-step.

Under the watchful eyes of so many shinigami who were skilled at sensing reiatsu, it was impossible to hide that Ichigo, Renji, and Rukia often spent nights together. There were more than a few jealous grumbles, and rumors claimed that Byakuya had broken his chopsticks when he learned of the events over dinner. But happiness was contagious, and it was hard to sustain resentment when three powerful souls suddenly became far more calm and patient, or at least stopped picking fights.

Within days, a betting pool sprang up regarding who was in the middle each night. The results were judged by which of the three seemed to be sore the next morning. Usually it was Rukia who was moving carefully, occasionally Ichigo. At first, it was never Renji… until one weekend, when Rukia approached Matsumoto, blushing and demanding Matsumoto swear to secrecy. Rangiku nearly burst with glee, and agreed to secrecy, but demanded lurid and scandalous details before giving Rukia the information she wanted.

Eventually, Rukia confessed that she and Renji wanted Ichigo to dress up in the bedroom, and the teenager had snapped that the only way he would do it was if he was on top that night, with Renji in the middle. Rangiku squealed with delight and gave Rukia the contact information of one Sohma Ayame. Rukia returned from the shop with a blush and a fine Chinese dress made to Ichigo's measurements.

At breakfast on Monday, Rukia and Renji both wore dopey smiles. Ichigo wore a dark blush and a darker glare. And Renji was limping.

Matsumoto cleaned up the betting pool. True to her word, she did not reveal her sources.

Another rumor made the rounds soon after. Whispers circled Seireitei that Rukia's closet had become home to an array of costumes, including a wedding dress, a schoolgirl uniform, and a French maid outfit.

Rukia fired all the servants who had access to her rooms.

Byakuya developed a tic under his right eye.

It then became known that the dresses were far too large to fit Rukia, and in fact seemed constructed to fit a male body.

Rukia moved the outfits to Renji's place.

Byakuya's eye no longer twitched.

He had started drinking.

End.

Credits: Ayame and his man-dress-store cameo is brought to you by Fruits Basket. Ichigo in a dress brought to you by Bleach fanart/fanfics. Cross-dressing is So Not My Kink… but the fandom kept putting Ichigo in a dress and making it _hot_. I blame this entirely on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that!  
> If you haven't already read this in The Pit of Voles, then I encourage you to leave a comment or two. It will feed the beast, possibly encouraging it to reproduce.

**Author's Note:**

> Author commentary for each chapter can be found at my livejournal - squizbee.livejournal.com


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